


Shadows Grow

by Narlth



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9641981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narlth/pseuds/Narlth
Summary: Only an enchantment could turn Merlin against his king. But can Arthur bring him back?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDragon/gifts).



It’s the impact of his knees hitting the floor that wakes him.

The world swims into focus. Immediately in front of him is the brown fabric of someone’s trousers, and he had to turn his head to see past.

Light from the torches dotted around the room dances across the walls and floor, staining them orange. 

His throat clicks as he swallows, there’s a strange dry taste on his tongue that he can’t identify.

He tries to bring his hands up to rub his eyes, only for him to meet resistance. Glancing down his eyes land on thick rope wound around his wrists.

“What?” The words falls from his lips unbidden.

A sound to his left, has him jerk around, eyes roving, until they land on a figure.

The loose shirt hangs on broad shoulder, the front open in a low cut.

His eyes slide further up, until they reach sky blue eyes. Filled normally with warmth, and amusement, are clouded.

“Ar-thur?” They lock eyes for a moment only for Arthur to shake his head, something indecipherable lurking in his expression.

~

Early spring sunlight falls through the windows, bathing the corridor.

The stillness is broken not a moment later as the sound of footsteps cuts through the quiet. A red and blue blur all but flies over the stone floor, the door at the end clattering loudly as it’s is thrown open.

It’s morning in Camelot, and of course, as is usual, Merlin is running late to wake his king.

The servant skids to a halt outside of Arthur’s room, taking a deep breath, as he tugs his scarf and shirt back into place, before he enters the room.

Only to be met with a pacing and already dressed Arthur.

“You’re up.” 

“Excellent observation skills there, Merlin.” Arthur stops his pacing, folding his arms over his chest, as he aims a pointed look in Merlin’s direction.

“But now you’re here, I need you to help me prepare for lord Shelton’s arrival.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, having forgotten until now about the stuffy sounding lord’s visit.

“I thought you told me the other day, that you could dress yourself?” Merlin doesn’t really intend for Arthur to hear him, already turning away to collect everything he needs.

“The stocks have been rather lonely don’t you think, Merlin?”

Rolling his eyes, Merlin glances over his shoulder. Arthur has his back to him, looking out of one of the rooms windows.

“If you sent me to the stocks, who would help you dress?” 

Merlin crosses back over, as Arthur replies.

“I would just have George serve me.”

“But you hate it when George serves you.”

He sees a muscle in Arthur’s neck twitch, before the king turns.

“Shut up, Merlin.”


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they’re out on the steps of the courtyard, lord Shelton’s party is within moments of reaching the citadel. The wind has started to pick up, disturbing the sea of red cloaks.

Arthur is dressed in his full ceremonial garb, the only piece not so being Excalibur.

Merlin is stood two steps behind Arthur, his hands clasped behind his back. 

Everyone is silent, or near silent as the group of horses clatter in.

The lord had brought with him five guards, and three servants, all of whom ride at the back of the group.

A selection of Camelot’s stable hands rush forwards as the visitors draw to a halt.

Arthur takes a step forwards to met Shelton as he dismounts, offering a hand to be shaken.

“Thank you for making the journey.”

Lord Shelton is an older man, not quite Uther’s age when the former king passed, but not a large number of years off. His hair is speckled with grey, where previously there was only brown.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Shelton answers, meaning Arthur’s hand with his own.

Merlin shifts in his spot, leaning, just so that he can look over Arthur’s shoulder. He’s concentrating so hard, that he almost missed the moment Arthur summons him.

“My servant, here will make sure all your belongs are taken up to your rooms.”

Merlin scurried up, stopping himself just before he can collide with Arthur’s outstretched arm.

Merlin hovers besides Arthur as he and Shelton continue talking, casting his eyes in the direct of the pile of luggage that is slowly growing.

There’s a moment when Shelton is is distracted by something, and Merlin manages to catch Arthur’s attention, scowling and nodding his head toward the pile whilst he mouths ‘really?’

To which Arthur simply quirks his eyebrows upwards.

Sighing in an exaggerated manner Merlin, get to work hefting the bags up into the castle.

~

The job is a slow one, and by the time Merlin has dropped the last one off, his shoulders and arms aching from the weight, and his hands trembling from the effort.

Exhaling, he slumps back against the nearest wall, taking a moment in Shelton’s room to hide away from whatever new task Arthur might assign him.

He closes his eyes, just enjoying the quiet time, but it proves to be a mistake as not a minute later there’s movement outside the door.

Merlin drops to the floor, wincing as he crawls under the room’s bed, he’s quite as skinny as he is, so he can fit underneath no problem.

Holding one hand over his mouth Merlin tries to calm the fluttering of his heart, as the door opens, and two sets of feet enter.

There’s the sound of wood scraping against stone, which Merlin realises is the pair sitting down at the table on the opposite side of the room.

He doesn’t recognised either of the pairs of shoes, but then again, he doesn’t make a habit out of remembering people's footwear so it’s not exactly surprising. But it is a reasonable assumption that one of the sets belongs to Shelton himself.

Straining his ears, Merlin eavesdrops on their hushed conversation.

Merlin frowns at the words that reach him, unsure of what exactly they mean, but knowing that Shelton’s presence in Camelot is more than just a cursory visit.

He shuffles himself forwards slowly, craning his neck. Needing to see the owner of the second voice, needing to know who else it was he needed to keep an eye on.

He’s unsuccessful, in the end. Only managing to get a view of grey trousers, before he decides he’s close enough to the edge of the bed, and that getting any closer would risk his discovery.

Instead, he commits the voice to memory, and waits them out, hoping that Arthur won’t be too mad at him for being late back.

~

As is customary with all notable guests in Camelot, a feast is laid on in their honour. Tables were all but over flowing with plates of food, and glasses filled with to the brim with wine.

What was not customary, however, was for the guest of honour to pay quite as much attention to the king’s servant as Shelton did.

Merlin for course, was tasked with keeping Arthur’s goblet full, along with that of Shelton, the lord whilst having brought three of his own servants, had apparently dismissed them all from being in attention during the feast, so their duties fell to Merlin.

It has started when Shelton first needed a refill, the lord, actively searching Merlin out in the line of servants along the wall, rather than just lifting his goblet and assuming that Merlin was just waiting for him to do so. Then once he’d found Merlin, he had actually waved him over.

Dismissing it as just a difference in custom, Merlin had done as bid, then retreated with a small shake of his head.

That was only the beginning however, as next time he was summoned, not only did Shelton keep his eyes glued on Merlin for the either time, but the moment he paused besides the table, he felt Shelton reach out. The lord’s hand brushing against his clothed arm.

It was only for a moment, but it was undeniable.

Frowning, and hurrying away as fast as he was able, without spilling his wine. Swapping the jug between hands, Merlin brushes his fingers over the area, still feeling the phantom touch lingering there.

Glancing left and right, he wonders if anyone else had noticed. 

But he only receives a querying look from Gwen. Apparently not.

He shakes his head, at her, deciding he’s just being paranoid after the conversation earlier.

It’s a long time before he is summoned again by Shelton, in the meantime, both Arthur and a couple of the other Camelot nobles seek refills from him, none of them seeming to have noticed Shelton’s odd behaviour.

Whilst the way the lord had been acting so far had been strange, that was nothing compared what occurred the third, and also final time that Merlin was called over.

Shadowed green eyes following him once more, Merlin can feel the tension in every inch of his body. He pointedly refuses to look at Shelton, focusing instead on his target.

It’s because of this that he doesn’t notice what’s happening until he feels a sharp pain just below the side of his ribs.

Gasping, Merlin jerks, sending a few droplets of wine flying onto the table.

Eyes wide, Merlin’s free hand flies to his side, expecting to find some sort of evidence to go with the pain he felt. But there was nothing, the fabric of his shirt had not even been disturbed.

“Merlin.” The sound of Arthur’s voice cuts through him, the note of disappointment he detects causing his heart to sink.

He glances at Arthur from the corner of his eye, just catching the look that his shot in his direction, before Arthur turns his attention to Shelton

“I apologise for my servant, he’s had a tiring day.” Arthur makes a beckoning gesture, and another servant hurries forwards, rag in hand.

Merlin turns at the tug on his shirt.

“I think you had better go home, Merlin. Make sure you’re fully rested for tomorrow.” There’s bite to the words, and all previous thoughts of protest flee, instead Merlin simply hands his jug off to someone else, then spins of his heels, and with no glance backwards leaves the hall. 

~

Alone in his room, Merlin allows himself to collapse backwards onto his bed. Blue eyes falling closed, he allows the tension to bleed from his body.

He feels a small amount hurt at Arthur’s actions, even if logically he knows that there was nothing else that Arthur could have done, without risking offense. But even so, that didn’t stop it cutting.

Dropping one hand on his chest, he realises the pain he had felt earlier has completely vanished. Curious once more, he sits up, fingers working at the knot in his belt until it’s loose, and he can pull his shirt free.

Nothing appears out of order, his pale skin still smooth, over the slight concave curve of his stomach. He pokes at the patch of skin below his ribs despite the lack of visual evidence, but still there is nothing out of the ordinary.

With a sigh, he lets his shirt fall. Perhaps he really is just over tired.

While, he would prefer to sneak up to Arthur’s rooms and spend the night snuggled up in the king’s frankly massive bed, pressed up against Arthur himself, but perhaps it was a good idea to just remain in his own room tonight.

Catch up on his rest alone, and not have to worry about whether he and Arthur might clash.

Merlin shrugs out of his clothes, abandoning them on the floor, before replacing them with his nightwear.

Grabbing his blanket, Merlin draws it around himself, climbs into bed, and drifts off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur had been disappointed when the feast had finally ended and he had been able to escape back to his room, only to find it empty. Not that he was hugely surprised; he knew he had hurt Merlin by dismissing him so abruptly. Especially given that it was for something which the servant was not wholly at fault for.

He took no joy in having to use his authority in this manner, especially after they had finally caved and admitted their feelings for each other. Unfortunately while their relationship to each other had changed, the way they were viewed from the outside had not changed, and that meant he was still beholden to the rules and etiquette of court.

Even so, it still left a bad taste in his mouth, and he resolves to try and make it up to Merlin once Shelton had left. Arthur had most certainly noticed the amount of undue attention the lord was paying to Merlin.

For now, at least he hadn’t been a lie to suggest that Merlin was tired, he knew perfectly well that he had required the servant to perform more work than was usual. Which meant that Merlin having to be dismissed early may actually prove to be of benefit, giving him a few more hours to rest.

His fingers worked at the fastening of his cloak, pulling the leather free of its clasp. He catches the fabric before it can fall, dropping it over the back of one of his chairs.

He’s tired himself now, the activities of the day having caught up with him, now in his moment of rest.

His bed is calling him, and Arthur sees no reason to deny it.

~

It’s still dark when something wakes him, Arthur’s eye lashes peeling apart slowly.

He’s warm, body still cocooned in his blankets, lethargy pulls at him, but Arthur resists. Something does not feel right. 

He strains his ears, listening. 

At first the is nothing, until a rustle of fabric catches his attention. 

Arthur tenses, muscles coiling under his skin. He can just see his sword where it rests next to his bed, the tiny trickle of light catching on the metal. 

His fingers twitch on top of the covers, itching to wrap around its hilt. 

The rustle comes again, closer than before. 

Without a moment's hesitation, Arthur springs into action.

Leaping from the bed, he spins around, grabbing his sword and dropping into a defensive stance.

With almost no warning a blade strikes out at him, wielded by silhouette, and Arthur only just managed to bring his own sword up to block the strike.

He directs the attacker backward, using his strength, putting so distance between them so he can launch his own attack. 

There’s a deafening clang as metal strikes against metal. Arthur huffing as he goes in for another blow, only to be met once more by the invaders blade.

Whoever this, they are clearly a skilled sword fighter.

They had moved away from the bed as they exchanged blows, getting closer and closer to the window.

Arthur had been expecting some sort of nameless cloaked assassin, out for revenge against the Pendragon family, but as they pull away from yet another exchange, light falls across the attackers face, as they step backwards.

Breath stopping in his throat, Arthur’s eyes widen.

He must still be dreaming surely. There’s no way, absolutely no way this can be real.

Shaking his head, a name falls from Arthur’s lips.

“Merlin.”


	4. Chapter 4

Overcome by shock, of the revelation, Arthur had almost let himself fall victim to Merlin’s next attack.

Luckily at the last moment he had launched himself forwards, easily tackling Merlin and disarming him, before summoning a guard to escort the servant down to the dungeons.

At no point had the servant made any attempt to defend his actions, even after Arthur had demanded an explanation.

In fact Merlin had made no attempt to even speak, rather just staring almost blankly back at Arthur as he was restrained and hauled away.

Even now with the pair on them down in the castle dungeons, that same blank look still clouded Merlin’s features, looking unnatural on his normally expressive face.

Merlin had been bound, both hands tied together in front of his body, his shoulders hunched forwards ever so slightly, as if carrying a great weight.

Warring with the betrayal that pulsed through his veins, Arthur closed the distance between them until he was practically nose to nose with Merlin, their breath mingling.

He searches the depths of Merlin’s eyes, looking for something, anything to show him the man he loved was still there.

But he found nothing, simply emptiness.

His heart squeezes painfully in his chest, his is clearly not his Merlin.

The full of life soul clearly buried under some sort of enchantment.

“Merlin…”

He wants to turn around, to leave, get away from the shell wearing Merlin’s face. In fact he’s already started to do so, foot lifting ready to carry him away, when he stops.

One last ditch thought springs to mind, before Gaius is summoned to try and break the spell.

Without hesitation, Arthur leans forwards, one hand coming up to brush against the skin of Merlin’s cheek, cupping it for just a second before he pulls the servant in.

Merlin’s lips are dry under Arthur’s, a split second of regret washes through him as Merlin fails to respond, and he’s about to pull back when something happens.

Merlin’s full weight comes to rest against him,body slipping until Merlin’s knees hit the floor with a bang that most certainly hurt.

Arthur’s only able to the stop him before Merlin falls any further, watching with baited breath as finally emotions flicker into life on Merlin’s face.

“What?” Merlin’s voice is dry and scratchy, like he has just awoken from a long sleep. And perhaps that’s true, the enchantment leaving him a dream like state.

Arthur has to restrain himself from gathering Merlin into his arms, so relieved to have him back is he. Instead he waits a Merlin’s eyes rove over the surrounds things clicking into place before he finally looks up and their eyes meet.

“Ar-thur?”

“Only you could get yourself enchanted to try and assassinate me.”

This time he doesn’t hold back, dropping to his knees, Arthur drags Merlin close, tucking his head against his shoulder.

“Let’s get you out of here.”


End file.
